


The Wreck of '86 (Anything Can Happen)

by kastron (decidueye)



Category: Leverage, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Basically every pairing is hinted at in this fic, Gen, Hardison is a fanboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/kastron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate has a secret past, and when Hardison gets caught out on the job the team find out something about their Mastermind that they never would have been able to guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wreck of '86 (Anything Can Happen)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/gifts).



“Eliot, don’t you realise where we are?” A sigh comes through the intercom, but even the threat of the Hitter’s exasperation can’t stop Hardison from twitching with excitement.

“We’re at a party for jumped up nerds in monkey suits.” Eliot replies. Somewhere, Parker snorts, and Hardison shoots a glare towards the ceiling. She’ll probably catch it.

“We’re at Stark Expo, Eliot. _The. Stark. Expo._ The largest collection of the most current technology organised by someone who is probably _the_ smartest person on the planet and at least partially responsible for the Av-”

“We know, Hardison.” Nate’s voice cuts in, clearly frustrated. His tone is clipped, and Hardison bites his lip. “We were all at the briefing, and you gave us more than enough detail the first time. Just, try not to get too over excited, okay? You’ll blow our cover.”

Hardison rolls his eyes. Nate’s right, theoretically, but the man’s been short-tempered ever since they decided this event would be the best time to strike their target, and Alec feels like he’s been taking the brunt of his frustration. Just because Nate’s only recently getting the hang of _Google_ , doesn’t mean he has to hate on the one event Hardison’s _dreamed_ of getting into since the first time he touched a computer.

“Right, right.” Hardison hums in agreement. “You’ve got to give me some leeway though, right? Because I’m a tech guy, and I’m playing a tech guy, and this the ultimate tech event, and I mean _the_ ultimate event. We’re always excitable when it comes to true beauty, no matter how far up the corporate ladder you go. Besides, the honest-to-god _Avengers_ are going to be here soon, and most of the room is going to go crazy when they see them. I’d stick out like a SEGA if I didn’t react.”

“ _Or_ you’d look like a sane human being.” Eliot huffs, overcompensating. “The Avengers are nothing special.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Ninja-Geek. I’ve seen your –” Something metal grazes against Hardison’s shoulder. He gasps, hand clutching at his chest.

“Holy crap, Iron Patriot just bumped into me.”

“Wasn’t that War Machine?” Parker asks; he knew she was watching him. Hardison shakes his head.

“They changed it to Iron Patriot during the Mandarin fiasco. Don’t you think it’s cooler?” A hand lands on Hardison’s shoulder, and he hears a reply that’s decidedly _not_ coming from the intercom.

“No, I really don’t. Why does everybody keep saying that? Also, I’m going to take this, if you don’t mind. If you do mind - I’m guessing you do, it looks terribly important - I’m still going to take it, but maybe we can negotiate an exchange.”

Hardison swallows as nimble fingers pluck the communicator from his ear, and turns around to come nose to nose with a smirking man in his mid-forties, hair stylishly dishevelled.

_Do not squeak. Do not squeak. Do not squeak._

“You’re – Tony. Stark.” Hardison squeaks. “Uh. Mr. Stark. Sir?”

“The one and only…” _The_ Tony Stark remarks drily, eyebrows raising in question. “Are you really just another crazy stalker? ‘Cause I’d been kind of hoping for a conspiracy, or a terrorist plot, or something. At least some kind of explosion; got to keep things lively or they’ll think I’m getting old…”

“I’m. I’m, uh…” Hardison digs his nails into his palm, trying to regain his composure and conjure a cover story. The transition is swift – he’s got experience and he’s not about to let something like meeting his idol blow the plan, after all – but he’s only got a twenty percent chance that Stark ( _Iron Man_ ) didn’t catch it. There’s a threat beneath the quips, and instead of rising, Hardison forces himself to deflate, laughing sheepishly and palming the back of his neck. “That’s…exactly what I am. S – Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh?”                                                                                                                  

Hardison keeps his eyes downcast. “It’s just, ever since New York – I was there, hid in the subway, watched the news after – I mean, you Avengers are _so cool_ , man, and my sister, she got a waitressing gig here. I begged her to let me in, please don’t fire her, I just wanted to see you guys on stage. I – “ Stark holds up a hand, and Hardison quiets. It’s embarrassingly easy to gush.

“Hmmm.” Stark eyes Hardison thoughtfully. Alec bounces on his toes. He doesn’t have to try all that hard to look star struck and uncomfortable. Stark claps his hands together.

“Alright, then! Follow.” Stark jerks his head and begins working his way through the crowd. Hardison stumbles after him, confused.

“You – You’re escorting me out personally, sir?” he asks, persona up.

“Out? No, no, I’m escorting you in. You get this far through my own security screening system, might as well get some kind of reward, don’t you think? That’s how we train a genius.”

“Reward?” Hardison swallows. Stark seems a little _too_ happy to have just found someone infiltrating his event. He’d expected the man to take offense and lock him up. At the very least, throw him out. Now he’s just confused.

“Yeah. You get to meet your heroes. Honestly, keep up, I’d been hoping you were smart.” Stark moves quickly, heading towards a door in the corner of the main stage, and Hardison almost loses him twice. He sends a nervous glance towards the intercom, still intact between Stark’s fingertips, and wonders why his dream had to come true right _now_ ; it was more of a nightmare.

**

Hardison finds himself shouldered ‘politely’ onto a plush leather couch. The four other inhabitants of the room look up on his entry.

_The Avengers are staring at me._

Hardison swallows thickly.

“Who’s this?” Captain America – _‘call me Steve’_ , he insists in every interview – asks, looking between Stark and Alec. Hardison feels conflicted; the man looks like a cross between a hit man and a labrador, and he doesn’t know whether to be terrified of the hero, or ask for a hug.

“I don’t know.” Tony responds bluntly, and Hardison catches _Steve_ rolling his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. In the far corner, Hawkeye – they never did release his name – snorts, and Hardison wonders if this kind of thing is a frequent occurrence for them. Tony sounds flippant, and he’s smiling like he’s trying to piss someone off. “Says he’s a fanboy, didn’t catch his name.”

“And you just decided to bring him here with you?” Steve sighs, exasperated, before turning to Hardison with some semblance of a polite smile. “What _is_ your name?”

_Think ComicCon._

“J – Joseph Miller.” Hardison provides, faking bashful. “I’m not – Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m in the same room as the Avengers – but I don’t really get – what’s happening here?”

“You tell me.” A man, curly haired with a mildly amused expression asks, and all eyes turn back to Stark. Stark grins, and it’s all teeth.

“Here’s the thing: he’s a fanboy with an earpiece. That raises alarms all by itself – what kind of innocent geek needs back up? But what interests me most is that it’s not your run of the mill Bluetooth phone extension. Oh, no. It’s a state of the art, _custom adapted_ earpiece; the technology’s almost on par with my own.” Hardison flushes with pride, thankful that it’s mostly hidden by his complexion, and quickly rethinks his story.

“I need a job, okay?” He interrupts. “I just wanted to show you some of my ideas, see if I could get a place in your R&D department. You never advertise, and I can’t get past the receptionist. The earpiece is a prototype – it’s not even connected to anything.”

“That’s a damn good story, Joseph Miller.” Hawkeye is peering over a StarkPad, frowning, and the Black Widow -  even more beautiful and deadly in person, and Hardison really needs to get out – moves to join him.  “You’re going to have to work in an identical twin, though, ‘cause SHIELD intel has your face pinned to the identity of one Alec Hardison, Leverage, Inc. You aware that there’s an expert hacker who’s stolen your features and is playing Robin Hood with a group of con artists?”

Hardison coughs. “No, sir, I wasn’t. You should probably go stop him.”

Stark barks out a laugh. “I like him! He’s got some nerve.” He spins and catches Hawkeye’s eye, indignant. “Wait, SHIELD intel? How come I don’t know about this Leverage organisation?”

“They aren’t really considered a threat. Hell, they’ve even managed to take down some people on our watch list before. The data’s probably not marked as important enough for you to pay attention to it.”

“Hey.” Hardison protests, and Hawkeye raises an eyebrow. _The game was up, anyway_. “I think we’re better than that.”

“Oh, I didn’t say you weren’t good. It’s just that we like you.”

“For now.” The Black Widow interjects. “But I don’t trust Spencer.”

Hardison shrugs. “Understandable.”

“So, he’s a hacker?” Steve asks, bringing the focus back to _why_ Hardison was there and making Alec curse inwardly. “Does he want to steal your research?”

“Hell, no!” Hardison counters, raising submissive palms in Stark’s direction. “I’ve got brains, thank you, and a sense of self preservation. This is my down time; I just wanted to see if I could get in.”

“Right.” Stark clearly isn’t buying it, which, _damn,_ because he’d thought that that was a pretty good excuse. It’s what he would have been doing anyway, if their mark  hadn’t thrown them in this direction. “And the rest of your team came with you, why?” Tony gestures to the earpiece again, and the curly haired guy – Hardison’s just _dying_ to know who he is, he doesn’t seem like your average super hero – approaches it curiously.

“Is that still live?” He asks, and Tony shrugs.

“Well, I haven’t done anything with it. Unless someone else can disable it remotely I’m going to guess so.” He replies, before raising the piece to his ear. “Hello? If there’s anyone there, I’ve got your friend. Joseph, or Alec, or whatever. We’re going to hang on to him unless you tell us what you’re doing here – and whether we can play.”

“Tony.” Steve warns.

“What? I hate most of the people who come here anyway, serves ‘em right if they’re asking to get conned.”

There’s a pause as Stark waits for a reply, the rest of the Avengers watching patiently. Hardison grits his teeth. No one is going to speak without Nate’s say-so, but they will have been listening to everything that’s happened, and it’s been long enough that their leader must have come up with a plan by now. His captors might have super powers, but there’s no chance they have a stronger tactician. He watches for a reaction, and hopes that he’ll be able to play along with whatever Nate throws out.

Stark’s brow creases, and his smug expression dips into a frown. Steve takes a step towards him, hand drifting towards Stark’s arm, but it’s aggressively shrugged off. Stark moves to stand in front of Hardison, gaze intense.

“When the hell did Nathan Ford become a conman?”

Hardison gapes. The Avengers gape (except the Black Widow, who raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow, expression unchanging).

“Friend of yours, Stark?” Hawkeye asks, tapping on his Pad, and Hardison knows he’s pulling up Nate’s details.

“Nathan Ford is  the man on the other end, right?” Steve frowns. “You know him? And he’s working with this guy in a team of con artists?”

“Not the last time I checked. Then again, there’s been more time since then than there should have been.” Stark replies. He looks uncomfortable. “We were – we had a thing. Colleagues, I guess. Friends. Ish.”

“Nathan Ford. Son of Jimmy Ford, wanted, now deceased.” Hawkeye reads aloud. Hardison winces – and so does Stark, at the same time. “Former employee of _IYS Insurance_ , candidate for SHIELD recruitment.”

“What?” Hardison and Stark ask simultaneously. _This mutual reaction thing is getting creepy_. Hawkeye ignores  them both.

“Dropped off the radar following the death of his – “

Stark cuts Hawkeye off with a sharp gesture. “Skip to the conman part.” He snaps, and Hawkeye raises a hand in surrender.

“Okayy…re-emerged as responsible for the arrest of one Victor Dubenich. The case report suspected Ford’s involvement with four known criminals: Sophie Devereaux, the thief known only as ‘Parker’, Eliot Spencer and Alec Hardison.” Hawkeye nods his head towards Alec at that point, and he just shrugs in response. There’s no point trying to hide anything, now. “Those suspicions were confirmed five months later when an investigation into the company ‘Leverage Incorporated’ was launched by Ford’s old company IYS. Nearly two years later they manipulated a national election to take out Damien Moreau.”

“We’d been after him for years.” The Black Widow comments, and Hardison thinks that she might almost sound impressed. Stark still looks confused, fingers pressed to his temple.

“So, wait.” Stark turns to Hardison, his expression incredulous. “He just, what? Decided he was due a career change and shacked up with the people he’s spent years _catching_? That’s not Nate.” Hardison feels his hackles rising. Stark might be his hero, but he’s a stranger, and he’s making assumptions.

“It is now.” He replies tacitly. “Things happened; we were wronged. Nate saw what was good in us.”

“But _why?_ ”

“Ask him yourself.” Hawkeye interjects, eyes on the ceiling. Two seconds later, a tile moves and a mess of black clothing and blonde hair tumbles to the floor. “Or…her?”

“Nate’s coming through the door.” Parker says, breathless as she stands. The Black Widow has a gun on her, but she ignores it, crossing straight to the couch and falling onto it next to Hardison. He beams. “Hey, Hardison. You really screwed up this time, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Hardison admits, still smiling.

Nate knocks before he enters, Sophie and Eliot close on his heels. Eliot’s on edge – ready to fight – and Hardison expects it took a lot of coercion from Nate to persuade him to just walk in here. Sophie seems concerned, but her hand is placed on the small of Nate’s back, supportive. Nate’s expression is grim in an awkward sort of way, and Hardison looks between his boss and Stark curiously. They stare at each other for a long time, and Parker begins nudging Alec’s foot.

“Friends – _ish_?” Nate asks Stark eventually – attempting to break the ice? “I’d hate to see what you made your actual friends do for you.”

Stark laughs at that, but it sounds strangled. His hands are twitching at his sides, and Hardison recognises that habit as one of his own: the desperate need to tinker when he’s stressed or guilty. Stark’s history with Nate clearly runs deeper than he had guessed.

“Yeah, well. Getting hit by a car is nothing.” Stark says, and his stance is more guarded than his flippant tone. “Just ask Pepper.”

“This is awkward.” A low voice murmurs, amused, in Hardison’s ear, and he jumps, turning to see that at some point, Hawkeye and the Black Widow had moved to behind the couch. The curly haired man is shuffling in their direction, too, and Eliot seems to have gotten the same idea. Steve and Sophie hover protectively behind Stark and Nate.

“Tell me about it.” Parker chimes in. “Nate went all grey faced when he heard who Hardison was talking to, and when he said he’d come, well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so reluctant to save someone.”

“Seriously?” Hardison asks, indignant, and Parker just shrugs. Hardison shakes his head and turns his attention back to the conversation in front of them.

“- when you made that wristband and insisted _I_ be the one to try it out, and I almost blew my hand off?” Nate is saying. He’s smiling, and so is Stark, and Steve and Sophie look just as confused as Hardison feels, so he doesn’t think he missed too much by tuning out.

“Well, how would it have looked to the press if they found out? Imagine the headline: _Stark Industries Heir In Lycra Tries To Stop Bank Robbery. All To Be Found Was A Finger_.”

“And it would have been different for me?”

“Dad would have brought me back from the grave just to skin me for his disgraced reputation. At least yours would have said _Stranger_. They’d never have identified you.”

Nate makes to reply, but Sophie stops him with a delicate cough. Her expression is torn, and Hardison suspects she’s zoned in on the word that caught his attention.

“Excuse me, but I have to ask,” She says, lips pursed, “ _lycra_?”

Stark blinks, caught out. He must have forgotten there were other people in the room. There’s a pause, heavy, and Stark searches unsuccessfully for a reply. Nate shifts, uncomfortable, and Hardison watches him suspiciously.

“Oh. My. God. He was the third _Marauder!_ ” Hawkeye near screeches. Beside him, the curly haired man and the Black Widow burst into laughter. Hardison thinks he might have accidentally transferred universes.

“Marauder?” Steve asks, and Hardison’s glad that someone did. Those who seem to understand are too occupied to reply, though. Stark and Nate look like they’re waiting for the ground to open, and Hardison watches his boss carefully.

_Is he blushing?_

“Bruce.” Steve says, firmly, and the curly haired man – _he does have a name –_ straightens up a little, still snorting.

“Tony – oh God, this is hilarious – Tony thought, when he was younger, that the way to win his dad’s approval was to…well, be you.” Bruce explains, pointing at Steve, who looks shocked.

“You didn’t have to explain it like _that_.” Stark grumbles, glaring at Bruce.

“Oh, I did.” Bruce retorts, before continuing. “Anyway, he had a technology-induced-superhero gig in his teens. Nothing like Iron Man, though. It was pretty much three kids dressed like Captain America rescuing cats from trees and occasionally doing something significant – like the bank robbery.”

“We’d pretty much figured that one of the others involved was Rhodey, but we’d never been able to put a finger on the third.” Hawkeye adds, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. “Never would have guessed it was _Nate Ford!_ ”

Hardison turns, gobsmacked, to look at his boss. Nate’s eyes are glued to the floor, ignoring the soothing pats of Sophie’s hand on his back. Then again, Hardison doesn’t think that they’re all that effective when she’s holding back laughter the entire time.

“I didn’t dress like Captain America.” Nate says, almost petulant. Hardison’s brain short circuits.

“But there was…a costume? _Lycra?_ ” He asks. Beside him, Parker looks almost gleeful. Hardison thinks she might be waiting to ask if he still has it, and whether she can try it on.

“He was green.” Stark says, face set in a way that said he wouldn’t go down if he couldn’t drag someone else with him. “We called him Irish. That costume was really _something_ – he designed it himself.”

“I did not.”

“Well, okay, Rhodey did, but you chose the colour scheme. And that stupid hat you were so in love with. It messed up your hair.”

Nate opens his mouth as though to argue, but closes it again quickly, looking defeated.

“Why’d you stop?” Eliot is stood next at the edge of the couch, arms folded. _He’s taking this information very seriously_ , Hardison thinks. Nate’s probably just grateful that he didn’t ask about the hat.

“It just phased out.” He replies, sighing.

“Rhodey enlisted, my parents crashed a car and left me a company…No time, and it all felt a bit pointless, anyway.” Stark explains. “There were no heroes, back then, and we were doing a pretty shit job at pretending to be. I guess none of us could give it up for good, though, huh?” Stark eyes the rest of the team, as though he’d just noticed them. “This is _Leverage?_ ”

“We do our bit.” Nate says, and there’s tension creeping back into his voice. They’re all wanted, and the Avengers still technically work for the government – Hardison doesn’t know if this friendship is really going to influence what happens to them.

“You do. It just…surprised me. I was keeping an eye on you, and then, Iron Man happened and you disappeared. For _this_? Don’t get me wrong, I think it sounds awesome, and so much fun, but not _you_. You were tied down, sorted.”

“I lost most of that.” Nate counters. “People change even without events like…what happened. You might have been fighting me, one day, if it wasn’t for this team.”

Hardison swallows. He knows how much Leverage has done for him, knows that their existence has done at least ten times that much for Nate, and that they’re never, ever supposed to talk about it. Still, the kind of meaning behind Nate’s words, it’s a relationship he only ever thought he’d have with his Nana. Family is such a strange word to use, but it fits.

“I’m sorry.” Stark says, face stretched into a grimace. “About Sam. I…I could maybe have – should have done something. Money, or, machines.” Sophie grabs Nate’s arm; Nate’s usual reaction to anyone who _needs_ to apologise about Sam is less than pleasant, and if Stark could have done something…

“No.” Nate says, and his face isn’t the usual hardened mask he uses for talking about his son. “You couldn’t. It’s okay; Maggie told me you sent flowers. I knew you knew.”

“Three months late.” Stark says derisively. “I was too late.”

Nate…laughs? “I think kidnapping is a good enough excuse, Tony. You thought I was angry – is that why you didn’t get in touch?”

“You had every right to be. Pepper told me…you’d tried contacting me – you _did_ think there was something I could do.”

“Not from Afghanistan.” Nate responds. “You’ve had your own shit, Tony. Don’t steal mine to add to your burden.”

“That’s me; angst hogger.” Stark smiles tiredly. Nate takes a step towards him, and Hardison pulls a face – he does _not_ want to see them hug, that would be way above his daily capacity for weirdness. Instead, though, Stark brings his palm to the back of Nate’s neck, threading his fingers through the other man’s hair. Sophie snorts inelegantly, and Steve frowns. Hardison thinks that that gesture probably looked cuter on two fourteen year old boys.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but we really need to address the fact that they’ve infiltrated the building.” He points out. Stark and Nate snap into action, and Nate’s expression is business again. He needs to sell this.

“Justin Hammer,” Nate supplies, “has made a client of ours very, very desperate. We’re out of time for our original plan; if you’re willing, we could use a few extra hands.”

Stark crows at the name, before fixing Steve with what Hardison can only guess is the Stark equivalent of puppy eyes. They don’t seem that effective. Steve sighs.

“Go ahead.” He concedes reluctantly.

“We’re in.” Stark declares. “Let’s go somewhere you can me your data; The Avengers are going darkside.”

**

Stark takes them all to a conference room, bigger than anything Hardison even dreamed of for the Leverage team – and that’s saying something, they weren’t exactly on a budget – and Nate motions for him to put their information on the screens. Hardison feels like he’s in heaven, this kind of computer isn’t even on the _market_ , and spends a few seconds, fingers gliding over the navigation system, before he goes to connect his phone. Stark stops him, this time smiling easily as he catches his arm.

“No need for all that.” Stark says, and Hardison wonders how often it is that the man gets to show off to an audience who _gets_ what he’s talking about, and isn’t interested in shares or sales. “Just place it on the table, JARVIS’ll pick it up. JARVIS is –”

“Oh, I know what JARVIS is.” Hardison cuts him off, practically vibrating with excitement. “I tried to make a copy when I was fifteen. Ended up with more of a DUM-E; not an intelligent system at all.” Stark beams.

“I’ve got one of those, too – remind me to show you some time.” Hardison grins as Stark turns back towards Nate, taking a seat between him and the rest of the Avengers.

“Hey, Nate: your boy’s smart.” Hardison hears Stark comment. “Not to mention, he  has excellent naming skills. Better keep him.”

“I intend to.” Nate replies dryly, and Hardison shakes his head, bringing up the data JARVIS has copied. He stands, about to speak when Steve raises a hand.

“How about some introductions?” He says pointedly, and Stark rolls his eyes.

“Of course, where are my manners? It’s not like we’re _famous_ or anything, or Clint just read all of their names out ten minutes ago.”

“Names go with faces, Tony.” Steve chides, “And we’re only codes, to them.” He clears his throat, getting to his feet. “Hi, I’m Steve Rogers – you probably know me, at least. The man on the far end of the couch is Dr. Banner, but you might also know him as the Hulk.”

“Holy shit.” Hardison says, before he can stop himself.

Dr. Banner – tiny, _soft spoken_ Dr. Banner – smiles sheepishly. “Bruce is fine.”

“Hawkeye’s real name is Clint Barton.” Steve continues, ignoring Hardison’s outburst with some grace. Clint gives a jaunty wave from where he’s perched across the back of one of the chairs, hand resting on the Black Widow’s shoulder. She fixes Steve with a look before introducing herself.

“My name is Natasha Romanov.” She says, to the point, and Eliot hisses.

“Natalia Romanova?” He asks. Natasha eyes him evenly.

“Eliot Spencer.” She responds evenly, and Eliot concedes with a shrug.

“Well, that’s them.” Stark interrupts, rubbing his hands together, “And one member of your team – thanks, Romanov. You know who I am, so…”

“You heard my profile earlier – Nathan Ford. And you’ve met Hardison.” Nate points out, and waits. There’s only Sophie and Parker left, and they can speak for themselves.

“Sophie Devereaux.” Sophie fixes the Avengers with one of her most devastating smiles. “Charmed.”

“Parker.”  Parker’s attention is fixed elsewhere, on a painting attached to the wall. “I stole that from a place in Malibu.” She says, pouting, and Stark snorts.

“That was you?” He asks, and Hardison thinks that maybe the guy should care more when finding out he’d been robbed. “Pepper was fuming; I had to buy a forgery to replace it and pretend I found it.”

“It’s not a very good forgery…” Parker comments, nose scrunching.

“Pepper didn’t think so, either.”

“Justin Hammer, anyone?” Eliot asks, fingers tapping impatiently. Hardison shoots him a winning smile, throwing their client’s details onto the screen.

“What’s the moron done this time?” Stark mutters.

“Our client is the mother of a soldier.” Hardison explains, expression turning grim. He notices Steve’s back straighten. “Daniel Harper, age 25, killed in action – by his own weaponry. He was manning a missile shooter which had only just been handed over to the military – by Hammer Industries.”

“They’re _still_ buying from him?” Stark barks, outraged. “After everything he’s done? What kind of idiots are they?”

“Idiots with limited options, now that you’ve stopped producing weapons.” Natasha points out.

“Doesn’t mean that they should be buying from companies that don’t put their products through regulation testing.” Hardison continues. “The mother – Sandra – told us that her son is a weapons expert. There’s no way that he would have operated the missile incorrectly, which is what the report currently says. A report conducted by Hammer Industries researchers.”

“People actually get away with this?” Steve asks. He looks devastated.

“It’s why we exist.” Nate replies simply.

“We’ve already infiltrated the labs; they’ve definitely been fudging the testing. They’re probably trying to cut corners, considering they’ve just re-emerged from bankruptcy, but no amount of money is worth the cost of a human life.” Hardison clicks to the next slide – a photograph taken from inside Hammer’s research labs – and grimaces. “Possibly more – some of the technology they’ve been working on is designed for mass destruction, and if that goes wrong…” His face is set. “We need to make sure that this time, we even burn the ashes – there can’t be any chance of him dragging himself back up.”

“Justin Hammer is no phoenix.” Stark says firmly. His face shows nothing but disgust. “I was being merciful, the last time – he was an idiot making a mistake, trusting the wrong people. Greedy. Should have known that he worldn’t learn anything; even at Stark industries’ worst, we never put our own men at risk. The man needs to be put down.”

“That’s what we intend to do.” Nate says. “Only, with less killing. We aren’t going to stoop to his level, but even a desperate military aren’t going to buy from a convicted felon.”

“I still don’t understand why he wasn’t arrested the first time.” Steve says. Someone must have given him the file on the Vanko incident, because he’s staring down at his StarkPad, dismayed. Hardison hides a small amount of surprise that the hero from the past can use it at all.

“Lawyers.” Stark supplies. “They’ve saved my ass from the big house a million times, according to Pepper. Lawyers, and plausible deniability.”

“The 21st Century’s corrupt, Cap.” Clint adds. “Too many bad guys, and the good guys get too much out of defending them.”

“It’s not always like that.” Parker insists. “Sometimes you end up with bad guys being the best good guys you could ask for.” Natasha looks at her sharply, but doesn’t comment. Hardison thinks there must be a story there, and his suspicions are confirmed when Clint snorts, squeezing Natasha’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” He agrees, softly. “But you guys are a rare kind. Too special for anybody’s good.”

“How are you going to make sure he can’t get out of this one?” Bruce asks pointedly; he must have noticed Parker, poised with more questions.

“By eliminating the scapegoat.” Nate declares, and Hardison takes the reigns again.

“That would be me.” He explains. “I’m supposed to sell him some technology tonight – but it’s faulty. When it backfires, he’ll try to blame me, only to discover I’m a completely false identity, set up by his own computers.”

“Hacking?” Stark asks, gleefully. “How unethical.”

“Even better.” Sophie interrupts confidently. “I ‘bumped into’ Mr. Hammer on a bad day last week. He was having some trouble with the press, and I managed to rescue his reputation – as much as it can be, anyway. Needless to say, he hired me on the spot – I suppose he considers me something akin to your Pepper.” Sophie smiles, and Hardison disguises a laugh when Stark’s face morphs into an expression of terror.

“I bow to your skills.” Stark informs her. “Never con me. Please.”

Sophie laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. Nate was quick to veto all plans when you came up on our list.” She shoots Nate a sly smile, and he just returns it. “Now, we understand why.”

Stark places one hand over his arc reactor, using the other to ruffle Nate’s hair. “I’m touched.” He simpers, and Nate glares. Steve frowns.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Nate and Stark both look confused, but Sophie laughs.

“It’s hard to resist.” She says, amused. “He’s got very touchable hair.”

“Hasn’t he?” Stark turns to her, delighted. “He never believed me when we were kids.”

“You just did it to annoy me.” Nate grumbles.

Hardison coughs. “So. I’m supposed to approach Hammer.” He says, loudly. “Only now he’s seen me being carted away by none other than arch-nemesis Tony Stark, which is going to make him suspicious.”

“No.” Nate says dismissively. “We can use that. In fact, if you’re willing to help.” He motions to the Avengers. “We can make this whole operation a lot bigger, and guarantee an arrest tomorrow night.”

“We are _so_ in.” Starks says immediately, and then hesitates. “We’re in, right, Cap?”

“Ordinarily I’d see if we could get clearance, but this has to be stopped.” Steve replies, expression thoughtful. “If time’s short, I think it’s best that we proceed immediately.”

“Great.” Nate stands, ‘in the zone’, as Hardison likes to call it when his boss is coming up with an adjusted plan at lightning speed. “Hardison, you’ve got to get back to Hammer. Have Tony escort you out – take some security, if you can – and make sure to look angry. We’ll say that you tried to sell to Stark Industries, first.”

“It’ll probably make him even more eager to buy.” Stark remarks, impressed. “He’d just love rubbing a missed opportunity in my face.”

“That’s exactly what we need. Tony, once you’ve gotten rid of Hardison, if you could rile Hammer up a bit, Hardison will have an easier opening. Parker, you’re going to need to do the break in tonight.”

“Wait, break in?” Steve asks. Hardison curses mentally, thinking that the Captain is about to pull a stop on what seems like a brilliant operation. “If there’s going to be a break in, I want one of ours involved as well.  We can’t have you taking that risk on our watch.”

“I’ll go.” Natasha says. She’s eyeing Parker curiously, and Hardison swallows.

 _They’ll make a terrifying combination. God help anyone they run into at Hammer’s labs_.

“We’ll reconvene in a few hours and go over what needs to be done tomorrow.” Nate concludes. “Hardison’s going to need his earpiece back, though.”

Stark hands the piece to Hardison, and he wanders towards Nate as he fits it back into his ear. “You going to let me in on the rest of the plan?” He asks, nervous. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing and knock us off course. Again.”

Nate smiles, confusing Hardison. Even if things have worked out in their favour, he still got caught.

“I trust you.” Nate says. “You’ll do fine – it’s exactly how we planned it, only with a few embellishments. I just need to refine a few details, and persuade a few people – but trust me, you’re going to love the next part.”

“You sure it’s not plan M?” Hardison asks warily, and Nate grins.

“Only a little bit. Now get out there; let’s go steal a reputation. Not that there’s much of one to steal.”

**

Stark enjoys kicking Hardison to the curb a little too much, in his opinion. He’s manhandled back into the event by Stark’s Head of Security (whose name is _Happy,_ and isn’t that completely inappropriate for his job description?), and the billionaire laughs in his face as he’s pushed away. It attracts an audience, Hammer included, but Hardison’s glare isn’t completely staged as he rubs his arm, still stinging. There is such a thing as overkill.

“This kid thinks he’s smarter than me.” Stark is saying to the crowd with a scoff. “He wants to sell me an impossibility, as if I wouldn’t have built it already? Besides,” he leans into Hardison’s space, face set, and Hardison wonders if the man might have ended up a grifter, if he hadn’t been born rich. “Stark Industries doesn’t make weapons anymore. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“It’s not a weapon, it’s a defensive strategy.” Hardison pleads. “It could be used to – “

“No chance, not listening, it wouldn’t work.” Stark dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “ _Defensive strategy_ is just military code for a weapon inside a cake. I should kick you out here and now, but I think I’ll let you see what real talent can do. Stick around, seethe a bit. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Hardison stammers furiously, failing to think of a comeback and storming off – but not too far. He circles back carefully, listening to Stark jab Hammer about ‘yet another year of failure’, asking him why he hasn’t just quit already and when he’s planning to get himself killed by his own mistakes. Stark finishes his tirade with a bow, exiting through a laughing crowd, and Hardison places himself tactfully near the bar.

_3…2…1…_

“Buy you a drink?” Hammer slides in next to him, all sympathetic smiles and bitter undertones. “I know what Stark can do to people – alcohol is always the solution.”

Hardison nods, letting out a frustrated exhale. “Don’t you think getting even would be better?”

“Only if you can show me how.” Hammer says. His tone is joking, but Hardison can hear the hint of sincerity. “The man is infallible.”

“He wouldn’t be, if I can get my design into production.” Hardison replies, edging desperation into his voice. “It would change the dynamics of modern warfare, honestly. I thought – he was supposed to be the one to get behind things that seemed impossible, but I think this Iron Man thing’s inflated his already hug head to the point of blindness. He’s got no vision for anything else.”

“Exactly!” Hammer pushes a glass of whiskey in Hardison’s direction, raising his own. “He’s blinded by his own genius. Which I promise you is going to bite him in the ass one day. I’ll find something, something better. My company will finance it. He’s going to end up kissing my boots while I bathe in _his_ money.”

Hardison laughs. “I’ll join you, when my design sells. He’ll be our slave.”

Hammer grins, and then turns, trying to lean casually against the bar. Hardison stops himself from wincing at the other man’s poor attempt to seem disinterested.

“What is it? This design you’re working on.”

“Working on? Oh, no, it’s complete. I’ve even got a prototype. It needs beta testing, though – a whole year’s worth – and I just don’t have the salary.”

“But it’s good? Change the face of modern warfare, you said? And the prototype works?” He’s leaning forward now, and despite Hammer maintaining a ‘casual’ tone Hardison can practically smell the desperation.

 “It’s better than good.” Hardison scoffs, thinking _hook._ He fixes Hammer with a sharp look. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because _my_ company’s not oblivious to a golden egg when it’s offered up on a plate.” Hammer holds out a hand. “Justin Hammer, Hammer Industries, biggest arms contractor for the US military.”

Hardison hesitates, eyeing the hand calculatingly for effect before taking it. “Joseph Miller, Chemical Engineering PhD, amateur weapons designer.” He snorts. “Well, amateur in the eyes of arrogant jerks who don’t have the first clue about what it’s like to work without daddy’s pay check.” He grumbles. Hardison inwardly winces; of course he knows Stark’s background, the man is his idol, but he has to cement the deal.

Hammer is already on his phone, and Hardison prays the profile he’s given himself holds. “You’ve got some impressive credentials to your name, Miller. If you’d like to take this somewhere private, we can open negotiations? We might be able to have our revenge as early as tomorrow.”

**

Hardison wakes up on the couch in the media room of the Avengers Tower, and pinches himself. Twice. Parker, already awake, catches him in the act.

“Just got to make sure I didn’t dream everything that happened yesterday, and this isn’t some weird kidnapping scenario.” He says tiredly, and Parker grins.

“Nope.”

“We’re really pulling off a con with the Avengers?” Hardison is breathless, already reaching for the bottle of orange soda on the floor.

“Yep. It’s going pretty well, too.”

Parker’s excited, and not just on Hardison’s behalf, he can tell.  She and Natasha had returned from their break-in operation even later than Sophie and Hardison  from their negotiations with Hammer (well, they were supposed to be negotiations, but it seemed more like three parts drunken ranting, and one part agreeing with whatever Sophie suggested should be put in the contract). The pair had clearly bonded on their excursion, and Hardison swears that he saw Natasha sidle up to Clint with a soft murmur of ‘can we keep her?’

It’s a good thing he’s not insecure, and Parker knows where she wants to be.

The rest of the evening had been nothing but surreal. Eliot and Bruce had collaborated to prepare dinner, swapping recipes alongside aggression control techniques. The team had been introduced to Colonel James Rhodes, Iron Patriot and the third ‘Marauder’, and the infamous Pepper Potts – who had gotten on with Sophie like a house on fire. It had been hilarious to watch the nervous looks Nate and Tony were shooting them as they talked.

The plan had been formed and refined amidst good food, old stories and _terrible_ films. Having a team of superheroes and a multi-billion dollar company behind them has drastically altered their capabilities, and Hardison can’t help but think their final arrangement is way too modest given the resources at their disposal – even if it does have the best ending ever. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, potentially the height of Leverage Incorporated’s career, and it doesn’t really have enough of a bang.

_“The simplest plans are the most effective, Hardison.” Nate had told him when he’d complained. “We don’t want to turn this into a battle for New York; it’s a con, nothing more.”_

“Eliot’s about to move in now.” Parker says, interrupting Hardison’s thoughts. “The others are listening in the kitchen. You coming?”

“Yeah, alright.”

The pair shuffle into the kitchen together, and Hardison finds a plate of waffles being waved under his nose by Bruce. He accepts them gratefully, taking a bite as he moves towards his laptop.

“We got ears on Eliot?” He asks, and Stark nods. He’s upgraded Hardison’s computer whilst he slept, Hardison notices, and he’s not sure whether he should feel honoured or violated.

“I still don’t understand exactly what the point of this part is.” Stark muses. “Surely, if the rest of the plan goes right, we don’t need it?”

“It’s always good to have a solidifier.” Nate responds from where he’s sitting at the breakfast bar. Clint is next to him, examining his arrow tips. “It’ll ensure he can’t get free no matter how good the lawyers are, and probably prolong his sentence.”

“You’re all secretly sadistic, aren’t you?” Stark asks, but he’s grinning.

“Only when people deserve it.” Hardison replies, taking control of the laptop. He boosts the volume so everyone can hear. Eliot had practised his Russian accent with Natasha last night, and she’d been impressed, so there’s no worry that his authenticity might be doubted.

 _“Justin Hammer?”_ Eliot’s voice emerges from the laptop, and the room quiets.

“ _Who’s asking?”_

_“Alexei Kozlov. I work for the FSB.”_

_“I don’t trust Russians. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got a bit of a history.”_ Hammer sounds angry, rather than wary. That’s a good sign; it’ll be easier to play on that emotion.

_“Vanko was our enemy, too. He had no allegiance to us. I am here to make a deal.”_

“What if he doesn’t bite?” Steve asks. He’s watching the laptop intently, as though it might become a window to watch through if he wills it hard enough.

“Oh, he will.” Nate says. “Hammer’s a snake. If we present him with the right amount of reward, and make it dangerous for him to say no, he’s definitely going to take the deal.”

“ _You want me to what?”_ Hammer is asking. _“Sell you my new technology and sabotage the American’s? No way. They’re my best buyer, and they’d shut me down in a heartbeat. The first, though, I can definitely  do, and depending on how much you can give me, I think we can at least work out some kind of…arrangement. Perhaps you can be supplied with more.”_

_“How about your limbs?”_

_“I have those.”_ Hammer sounds confused, and Tony snorts.

_“Not for very much longer.”_

“To the point.” Clint remarks, laughing. “I like it.”

 _“Come back after the Expo tonight. You’ll be able to see the demonstration first hand and then I want no less than 5 million. Instant transfer.”_ Hammer’s speaking quickly now, rushing the deal; exactly what they want.

_“You’ll draw up a contract?”_

_“I’ll have my PA send it over. Encrypted, of course – don’t think I’m stupid.”_

_“Right, of course.”_ Eliot can be heard walking away, and Hardison switches the focus onto Sophie’s earpiece.

“ _RACHAEL!”_ The room winces.

“Rude.” Stark comments.

Pepper snorts. “You don’t know the half of it. The tales Sophie told me last night almost made me glad I’m working for you.”

“Only almost?” Stark looks scandalised, and Hardison sees Steve attempting to hide a laugh.

“Worst decision of my life.” Pepper deadpans, hefting a briefcase. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and sign _your_ paperwork.”

“ _Here are the documents you requested from last night, Mr. Hammer. You just need to sign them.”_ Sophie’s tone is sultry, and calming. If Hammer has any doubts about what he’s doing,  Hardison can guarantee that Sophie just eliminated them. There’s the sound of a pen being clicked and then a pause; Hardison can imagine Sophie placing a hand on Hammer’s wrist. “ _You’re sure you want to do this? The product hasn’t been tested, forging these documents to say that it has been and selling it to the military when you don’t even know how to use it? That’s risky.”_

 _“I’ve seen it.”_ Hammer says, condescending. _“And I’m not going to have to operate it – that Miller kid is. If anything goes wrong, we can call him a terrorist and have done with it.”_

Hardison has the distinct impression that Hammer just shrugged, and catches himself glaring angrily at the laptop.

_“And now we’re selling it to the Russians?”_

_“I know, isn’t it great?”_ Hammer crows, _“Twice the profit – more than, if I get my way, and I usually do.”_

“What universe is he living in?” Stark mutters, and Steve shushes him.

“ _America has never been loyal to me. America humiliated me and destroyed my company. Now, if I have the chance to screw this country over and get away with it, why wouldn’t I?”_

“Clearly, this man doesn’t watch enough films.” Clint says. “I don’t get why he doesn’t think it’s too easy.”

“The man’s desperate for a break.” This time, Natasha replies before Nate can explain. “He thinks that he’s owed one. He’s not looking hard enough for the holes because he doesn’t want there to be any.” She looks towards Nate. “You really do know how to assess a mark.”

“There’s no point wasting resources on someone that doesn’t need them to be convinced.” Hardison adds, grinning. Sophie’s conversation continues in the background, but he’s heard enough. He jumps to his feet. “I’m going to go get into my researcher costume.” He announces, with a pointed grin at Stark.

“Take one of my lab coats.” Bruce calls after him. “You’ll look more professional.”

**

Hardison takes a deep breath. The stage is huge, and bright, and in ten seconds everyone will be staring at him. He has to sell something that he knows is going to fail.

The technology, hastily put together by Stark and himself before Hammer asked to see it, is pretty much a tin box with a TV attached. He’d told Hammer that is was drone technology, using chemical weapons but able to distinguish between civilians and the enemy – it would put an end to the debate about collateral damage. Really, all they’d done to demonstrate its capabilities was play a pretty looking animation on Hardison’s own laptop, linked wirelessly to the screen. Somehow, it had been enough.

_Thank God. They could have done more, made it better with more time, but this…this was a rush job. And considering the risks, that was making him pretty uncomfortable._

Hammer brings the piece on stage himself, and Hardison barely listens to the fanfare and ridiculous speech the man is giving. Even though his growing experience with grifting has boosted his confidence, he doesn’t think that he’s ever going to get over his phenomenal case of stage fright, short of Nate’s fake-or-not-so-fake hypnosis techniques.

“…And now, my employee will demonstrate for you just exactly how this technology represents the future of modern warfare. Miller?”

Hardison shuffles on stage, dragging a briefcase full of research with him and happy that he’s supposed to look like a nervous dork, for once. Hammer is talking the audience through the procedure at the corner of the stage, as Hardison had told him to do the previous night: ten metres away; that’s all they needed.

Hardison casts a nervous glance into the rafters. He can’t see Clint. He flips the screen anyway, and the audience seems impressed. Stark’s even good at fakery, as it turns out.

Hammer wants to demonstrate the machine’s identification capabilities, and Hardison punches in the appropriate code. As he presses _execute_ , something small and golden falls from the ceiling.

There is smoke, and fire, and a bright, white light.

Hardison dies.

**

Justin screams. It’s an appropriate reaction; his salvation has just gone up in flames because of some kind of _glitch_ , and Stark’s robots are the ones putting it out. The audience is getting to their feet, confused, and Justin notices, dismayed, that Captain America is stepping up to calm them.

“Would you all please remain in your seats until we’ve assessed the threat.” The Captain is saying, and he’s charming, Hammer has no real reason to hate him – other than his shacking up with his rival. “Then we can organise an orderly evacuation.”

The engineer – Miller – he was right at the centre of the explosion, there’s no way he survived, and as the fire and smoke dies down there doesn’t seem to be anything left of him. A man dead on his watch is going to be a nightmare to deal with, and Hammer is already thinking of cover stories, wondering where Rachael is and how long he’s got before the press pounce on him. They’ve already taken out their cameras.

_Some kind of suicide mission? Rejected man trying to make a point? Well, it’s close enough to the truth., he might be able to spin it._

Hammer is already backing away, wanting to buy himself time, when the Captain calls him over. He freezes, and looks behind him, but everyone is staring now.

Hammer slinks over, and the Captain is already fixing him with that disappointed parent look. Justin decides that he has every reason to hate him – stupid lab experiment thinks that his 1930s manners make him everybody’s role model.

“Care to explain yourself?” The Captain asks, and the audience’s panicked whispers fall silent. Off stage, Justin catches a glimpse of Stark, who is smirking. He feigns ignorance, eyes widening and hands raised innocently.

“It was fine when I checked it, okay? Miller, he’s been sounding off for months, his wife left him, I think he must have fallen into some kind of extremist group. I swear, none of the testing said that this would happen.”

“You’d better be telling the truth, Hammer.” Hammer doesn’t know when Colonel Rhodes arrived, but now he’s right behind him, General Meade close on his heels. The General is fuming, and Justin feels himself shrink.

“I did not sign over a tenth of the US budget for a product that will kill my own men!” He demands. Justin opens his mouth to speak.

“Oh, but you did.” Someone, blonde, stern, and with a jacket that reads FBI is walking towards them. Justin is starting to lose track of what’s happening. She’s waving papers, and Justin has just enough time to register that they have _Hammer Industries_ stamped all over them before she hands them to General Meade. “Special Agent Hagen, General. I think you’ll find that these documents, which guaranteed that all sold weapons had been through the appropriate testing protocols, are forgeries. No doubt this product is similarly lacking.”

_Oh. Shit._

“You’re telling me that this man not only _willingly_ endangered the heroes that fight for our country, already risking their lives every single day without using faulty equipment, but also the lives of the thousands of civilians at this event?” Steve says, loudly, and the audience begins muttering again. Justin finds himself grabbed from behind – Rhodes is restraining him – and he sinks into the hold, defeated. Even Rachael can’t get him out of this mess – he needs to contact his lawyer. General Meade is watching him, disbelieving.

“I don’t believe this, Hammer. This is treason.”

There’s a whistling sound from the PA system, and Justin hears his own voice echoing across the hall.

“ _America has never been loyal to me. America humiliated me and destroyed my company. Now, if I have the chance to screw this country over and get away with it, why wouldn’t I?”_

“Oh, shit.” Justin says.

The press storm on him as he’s being taken away; Rhodes’ and Meade’s efforts to shield him are less of a comfort than they should be. Justin feels his knees buckle, and scours the crowd for an excuse.

He catches sight of Rachael in the corner of the doorway and calls out to her frantically, but she only smiles, looking to her left. Hammer follows her gaze, and his jaw drops when he sees Miller, alive and well, clad in all but the helmet of the Iron Man suit. Stark is waiting for him at the doorway. Of course he would be, Justin can’t even fall with any sense of peace.

“You took it too far this time.” Is all Stark says, and Justin blinks. He’d been expecting a joke. Someone comes to stand by his side, a man with a stern expression and thick, curly hair.

“Dan Harper; Camden Lahey; Craig Jackson.” The man says. The names mean nothing to him. “Someone had to avenge what you did.”

As he’s taken away, Justin thinks he can hear Stark laugh.

**

“You stole our motto.” Hardison hears Stark telling Nate with a smirk. “Nice one.”

_I am wearing the Iron Man suit._

Parker circles back to join them, wriggling out of her FBI jacket to mingle with the audience. She nudges Hardison, grinning.

“Hey.” She chirps, and Hardison stares at her.

“I am wearing the Iron Man suit.” He says. He’s shaking, and she laughs at him.

“I think the last couple of days have been like a wet dream for your wonder boy.” Stark comments as he walks over with Nate. “Using the suit as a way to survive and escape was a pretty solid idea, Nate – but I can’t help but think you weaselled that plan in just for the sake of making your geek owe you big.”

“It was necessary, Tony.” Nate says, but he’s smiling. “If it happened to make a member of my team happy, that’s entirely coincidental.”

“I am wearing _the_ _Iron Man suit!_ ” Hardison exclaims, and receives a pat on the shoulder from Steve.

“I’m surprised you handed it over at all.” The Captain remarks, and Stark makes a face at him.

“That was an old model, and I’d do anything for a friend.” He says pointedly, before turning to Hardison with a sharp gesture. “Come on now, though, get out of it. We need to increase your vocabulary before you break down completely.”

Stark utters a command and the suit dismantles around Hardison, folding back into the briefcase it formed from. Hardison stares at it briefly, before looking at Sophie, who is standing next to him wearing a smile halfway between amused and patronising.

“I wore the Iron Man suit.” He tells her, smug.

“There, it’s improving already.” Stark comments. “After party drinks at the Avengers Tower, anyone?”

Hardison moves to join him, but is stopped by Nate’s hand on his shoulder.

“We’ve got a client to compensate, first.” He says, and Hardison nods. As freaking _amazing_ as this con has ended up being for him, telling that woman that her son’s death wasn’t in vain is still going to be the most satisfying part. Close, but still more satisfying.

“I’ve got a better idea.” Stark says. “You’ve got the names of all the soldiers who died at the hands of a backfiring Hammer weapon?” Hardison nods. “I’ll set up a charity, _The Harper Fund_ , for the families of soldiers killed in action. Your client can be the guest of honour.”

“You’d do that?” Sophie raises an eyebrow, impressed. Clearly, Stark has never been on her radar; she mustn’t have researched him, and the look Stark gives her screams _duh_.

“I told a guy once I was a philanthropist. Got to make sure the reputation stays alive.” He insists. “And in the meantime, how about we dig out those costumes so we can humiliate your boss some more, huh?”

“This, I can’t wait to see.” Hardison grins, and Sophie shoots Nate a teasing glance as Stark leads the way.

Nate follows after them, groaning. “I can’t believe you kept it, Tony.”

Stark turns around, walking backwards as he places a hand over his heart, simpering.

“That and a lock of your hair in a necklace, sweetheart.”

 

 

_And then they all turned into puppies. The end._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> When I was struggling to end this fic, mizzy2k sent me a tweet with that final sentence, not knowing that I was working on this for _her_. So, she asked for it! *g*
> 
> Written for mizzy as part of the 2013 Leverageexchange on livejournal
> 
>  


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